


Let's hope this song reaches you

by lvdysmoothie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 505-Artic Monkeys, Angst, Kinda toxic relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvdysmoothie/pseuds/lvdysmoothie
Summary: But now he could see. He could see the same hazel eyes he’s recognised for years. Eyes he’d seen waking up in the morning, allowing the world to be swallowed by them. His roots were showing, his hair just slightly longer than what Sakusa remembered. He could see his skin that glistened in the dim light.He could see him. The low scowl that was stitched on his lips.---Where Sakusa is in a band and he performs a song for his ex-lover, hoping he could take back everything he did with his words.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Let's hope this song reaches you

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially meant for #HQAngstWeek2020 but I couldnt finish any of my other works so for now it'll sit as a stand alone piece though I'm really proud of this and I hope you guys enjoy :))
> 
> Also this is heavy inspired by 505 by Artic Monkeys and would be cool if you listened to the song while reading !!!

_‘But I crumble completely when you cry’_

Sakusa hadn’t thought it was a big deal. They had been officially going out for over two years now and he thought he was doing a pretty damn good job at putting himself out of his comfort zone for the blonde. Sakusa wasn’t one to openly express himself with words because it made no sense to say anything if his actions already reflected it. Now of course, Atsumu had said it countless of times when they’re together. Whether it be out in public to tease him or when they’re at their most private, confined between four walls and slow breathing. Atsumu hadn’t voiced any problem either so Sakusa sat there, oblivious to the string that grew taut at the back of Atsumu’s mind. 

The day finally came when the string snapped, standing at the door to their shared apartment. The key turned halfway, held lock by Atsumu’s trembling fingers. The air shifted and weighed down on Sakusa’s shoulders. He opened his mouth to ask what’s wrong before his words die on his tongue as he hears the softest sobs wreak his body. 

“Omi, am I not good enough? Do I not deserve it?” Atsumu whispers to the ground, his legs trembling and threatening to give way. Excuses caught in his mask as he tried to string together a coherent enough sentence to at least allow them to continue the conversation in the confines of their home. 

“I don’t-“

“Yeah Kiyoomi! You don’t! You never have and I’m at my fucking wits end! Am I asking for too much here?” Sakusa tasted the words that echoed through the hallway. The slimy, sticky tar-like feeling that stuck to the roof of his mouth and refused to come off. 

Sakusa felt the bile rise up his throat.

“Can you not love me?” 

Atsumu’s body falls limp, his hand abandoning the keys and runs them through his dyed golden hair. His cries now filling in the empty space between them and Sakusa felt his own knees buckle under him. He lands on his knees, his head resting on Atsumu’s shoulders. The feeling of his warm skin barely touching Sakusa’s forehead was enough to make his head spin.

“But I do love you.”

They couldn’t make it back into their apartment for a long time. Just the sound of Atsumu’s cries and Sakusa’s heart beating.

_‘It seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with “goodbye"'_

“Goodbye…”

Last night had been messy. Last night had their favourite wine glass shattered on the living room floor. Last night had the neighbours knocking on their door at 4am to check if they were alright.

Last night had been Sakusa’s fault. 

In his defence, his manager had booked him and his band for a last minute week-long gig on the other side of Japan. How was he supposed to know the perfect opportunity for his band to finally get recognised would fall on their anniversary date?

The morning didn’t come as fast as Sakusa would’ve hoped. The night dragged on for eons as the stars mocked him, scattering brilliantly in the sky on the very early morning of their anniversary. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to stay. As much of a bothersome nuisance Atsumu was, he always cared for Sakusa in a way he never knew anyone could. And their anniversaries were all the more enjoyable with Atsumu allowing Sakusa to choose their activity of choice and he wouldn’t complain. Be it listening to him talk about his new favourite sanitiser brand or help out with a new sample cover, their anniversaries were always centered around Atsumu’s love for him. 

But this year, the center of attention would be away. 

Sakusa didn’t remember when he actually fell asleep but when he awoke, the other side of the bed was left cold and empty. Hoping to quietly slip out without starting another fight, he grabbed his luggage and quietly opened the bedroom door to leave.

There on his hands and knees, hair still tangled from the night before, Atsumu cleaned up the spilt wine that was forgotten. The creak of the door gives Sakusa away, the blonde turning his head slowly to catch deep browns staring right at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but immediately swallows his words as he sees the luggage in the grip of the other’s hand. Gently, Atsumu musters up his best smile.

“Goodbye…” 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the rising star that reflected off of them, but the smallest of tears that formed at the corners of his eyes stole Sakusa’s breath away. Afraid of the things he would say, he bows slightly and rushes out the front door. He closes it behind him with a click and a lock. Sakusa pulls down his mask, suddenly unable to fill his lungs with air. Behind him, the softest of whispers rattled the door.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakusa should have said it first.

_‘I’m always just about to go and spoil a surprise’_

Sakusa’s band is only known by family, close friends and regulars who frequent one of the bars tucked in the corners of Tokyo. Either way, he’s quietly grateful to have someone by his side that supported him. Even if Atsumu was a great pain in the ass, he had been Sakusa’s very first supporter and it made him feel like he could take on the world. But he wasn’t going to tell Atsumu that, not if he wanted to get relentlessly teased for an indefinite number of years. 

Recently, however, word of Sakusa’s band had spread. Though not by enough to get that instantaneously famous, but enough to have random strangers recognise him as we walked down the street to get groceries. 

“Ain’t that great, Omi? Now everyone is starting to realise how talented my boyfriend is!” Atsumu threw his hands to the sky, his back against the sofa and his legs flung over the armrest. 

“First off, stop shouting. The neighbours already worry about us enough. Second, as much as I would to revel in the glory,” Sakusa paused, voice monotonous and dripping buckets of sarcasm, “the manager is getting too eager and is booking us left and right. Not to mention the sudden request to release another 3 songs before then.” He really was excited for the new opportunities for him to express his passion the only way he knew how, but the sudden workload gave him a lingering migraine. 

“Don’t sweat it. I know you’d be able to do it.”

Mere days passed and Sakusa had ate, breathed and drank work. His fingers either licking strings for new sounds or busy over his mixer, creating multiple sample tracks for his band to test out. Leaning against the doorframe, peering into the dimly lit room, Atsumu holds freshly warmed leftovers. He knew this was Sakusa’s passion, but he wanted to help lighten the mood off his lover’s frown lines. 

So he came up with a plan, a very Atsumu plan at that.

The night finally came when Sakusa tucked himself under the warm sheets at the same time as Atsumu. He smiled, he couldn’t wait to show his lover his handiwork.

“Say, Omi? Look at-“

“Not now, Miya. I finally can rest when the moon is up. Not tonight.”

“But I ju-“

“Please baby. Tomorrow.” The sentence barely audible as Sakusa drifted into a deep sleep. The other man just sat up on their shared bed, his hands clutching the ‘Kiyoomi Killer’ shirt he made and wore. Not that Sakusa would have noticed when he entered the room anyway because he practically walked in with his eyes closed. Softly, he placed a light kiss on his furrowed brows and smiled.

“Yeah…tomorrow.”

_'Take my hands off of your eyes too soon’_

The stage stood higher than everyone else. The sea of people that looked up as sweat dripped from his forehead. The air around him thick with alcohol and fear. Sakusa doesn’t remember when or how he got on stage. The feeling of the nylon strings pressed against his calloused fingertips sent a numb sensation surging through his body. He could barely make out the words that poured from his mouth, sliding off his tongue absentmindedly. What was he singing about? Where was he? 

He dropped his vocals, letting the sound guitar fill in the empty silence. In an attempt to root himself to the present, Sakusa breathed, filling his lungs till they screamed for him to stop. His hair was sticking to his face and the annoyance of it made him push his hair back a little too roughly. The tug and tangle between his fingers gave him a splitting headache as the guitar stopped, cueing his turn to sing again. 

It was just barely a second, a mere millisecond if Sakusa could count the details. The crowd waited to it. To hear him. 

Just as he opened his mouth, a glimmer of hazel wonder caught his eye.

The stage lights burst to life with bright colours. The guitar and drums synchronising together like they always do during rehearsals. This was the first time they had performed this song on stage and the sudden shift of tempo riled up his heart, barely being able to hold itself together. His own voice hoarse from the thoughts choking him.

Slowly he raised his hands. He could’ve sworn he saw him. Was he here? Why would he be here? Was he here? He wanted to see him. Even if his eyes hated the sight of the singer. Even if the words spoken to him were laced with fucking poison. Even if it meant Sakusa wouldn’t be able to see his smile anymore. 

He held out his hands towards the crowd. His lungs begging this time for the air he refused to breathe. Sure, it looked like he was trying to block out the blinding lights. They hurt his eyes and he wanted to see all of his adoring fans cheer for him as they moved their bodies to the rhythm of heartbreak. 

But now he could see. He could see the same hazel eyes he’s recognised for years. Eyes he’d seen waking up in the morning, allowing the world to be swallowed by them. His roots were showing, his hair just slightly longer than what Sakusa remembered. He could see his skin that glistened in the dim light. 

He could see him. The low scowl that was stitched on his lips. 

Ah, he wanted to feel his skin against his fingers once m-

_‘I’m going back to 505’_

Art blocks weren’t common place in Sakusa’s mind. He pretty much had a decent understanding of what people liked and what type of sound his band usually followed so chalking up lyrics that flowed well was never an issue. There were tons of scenarios to lyricise so he didn’t really have to go far for inspiration. 

But that day he did. 

He stared up to the ceiling, hoping the uneven paint job (barely actually noticeable but Sakusa always grumbled about) would suddenly jolt his creativity. He hated being stuck like this, unable to move forward and put out any decent work. Anything done without 100% just irked him and thinking about it either wasn’t helping him.

“Go and take a walk, man. You could use some sun too.”

“I’m not good with words.”

“Get wasted. That’s how I get creative.”

Yeah, he wasn’t counting on his bandmates for any sort of helpful advice. Even though the song was supposed to be for the band that they were all in. 

Atsumu saw the crumble in the process happen in real time. The sight of Sakusa staring straight at his notebook, trying to read his own handwriting under the desk lamp. His pen hadn’t moved for 15 minutes, the ink slowly drying up at the tip. Atsumu looked up at the clock. It was almost 2am and the bed was starting to get colder by the second. He knew better than to allow Sakusa pull more than 2 all-nighters. The results were almost as infuriating as not having done anything at all. And Atsumu was well aware of it. Pulling off the sheets, he walked up behind the other man and wrapped his arms around his neck. 

“Why don’t you sleep on it?” 

“Then nothing would get done.”

“Nothing’s already being done. C’mon, Omi. Just for tonight.” Sakusa was reluctant. He could barely hold up the weight of his eyelids but he knew the blank pages that stared back at him would keep them open by force. Sighing in defeat, he followed the blonde back to bed. The bed sunk under their weight, catching them as they were caught by sleep.

Soft sobs were a strange thing to wake up to. But Sakusa did anyways.

A tear or two rolled down Atsumu’s face, mumbling to himself about not wanting to get eaten by a giant volleyball or something like that. But the moonlight soaked into his tears. 

_What do his tears feel like?_

He reached out, almost blinded by desire. But he stopped, more whispers about how a volleyball would hate how he tasted like startling him back to his senses. Overcome with sensations, he got up and grabbed his pen.

By the time morning finally rolled around, Atsumu found Sakusa sprawled on his work desk. His curls splayed messily and the pen still uncapped. He smiled.

The song ended up being the longest his band had ever recorded. A full five minutes and five seconds. 

_‘If it’s a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive’_

It had been after a full set. Sakusa barely even had time to pack up his things, let alone help out with clearing out the venue. Sakusa clicked his tongue under his mask. He was driving at the very limit of speeding but his irritation got the better of him. He knew Atsumu was going to meet up with his brother but what was he thinking almost getting blacked out drunk. He knew very well that Sakusa wouldn’t help him if he threw up, let alone sleep in the same bed when he reeked of alcohol. 

“Hey, Kiyoomi. You know I hate to do this to you but my brother is on the verge of alcohol poisoning and I’m tryna close up. You mind?” The sound of drunk ramblings barely coherent in the background and Sakusa could hear Osamu snatching away a bottle. Irritated, Sakusa gripped onto his steering wheel just a little tighter as he pulled up in front of Onigiri Miya. Stepping out, he could make out the figure of the blonde man with his head resting against the table. Sighing loudly, he walked in, the bell chimes stirring Atsumu in his slumber.

“Thank god. I thought I would have to leave him the corner of the street just so I could close up. Well, he’s all yours. And don’t mind his rambling.” Sakusa tried to ignore the concerned look on the other twin’s usually calm face and poked Atsumu from a distance. A precaution, just in case. Slowly, Atsumu turned his head to look up and smiled lazily.

“Sakusaaaaaaa. What’re you doing here silly?” He stood up in a flurry, almost tripping over his own feet if not for Sakusa catching him. The smell of cheap beer and sake somehow penetrated his mask and Sakusa could feel the acid that rose in his throat. Seeing that there was no way he could trust the other with two legs, he slung his arms over his shoulder and dragged him out. All the way to the car, Atsumu used his free hand to trace out the kanji for ‘person’ and swallow it. 

When they finally settled in the car, Atsumu relaxed. He slumped down in his seat and giggled. The drive was almost silent, letting the evening die into night’s arms and the moon shone with sadness.

“I’ve got a secret Sakusa.”

“Not the time, Miya. You’ve caused enough trouble for your brother and I toni-“

“Do you think Omi loves me?”

Silence

“I love him so much but he doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t tell me he loves me. Ya know?”

Tears unconsciously running down his cheeks.

“I don’t remember what his hands feel like.”

“Miya, I think y-“

“Oh! But don’t tell him, alright? I know Omi wouldn’t like it. I would do anyyyything for him.”

He laughs loudly, almost as if he tried to dry his tears with it.

“I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you, Omi.”

_‘In my imagination, you’re waiting lying on your side’_

How many does that one make. Five? Eight? Who knew?

Atsumu knew. 

They could barely have a decent conversation without raising their voice. How could they not. The four walls that loved them now suffocated every word that lingered in the air for too long, stuffing it down their throats. After every fight, the morning after would be quieter than it had the previous morning. The evidence of shattered glass or toppled chairs gone whenever he walked out for band practice. 

He had a lot of that now. Squeezing as much time in the studio as he could so he wouldn’t have to steep himself in boiling hot tension back at home. He wanted to fix it, honestly. As much of an annoyance his partner was, he couldn’t deny the unspoken soft spot for the blonde. Nonsensical arguments weren’t supposed to happen so often in just one week. 

The lyrics he scrawled that week were angry, raw. Full of embarrassing guilt that he could do better. But he never knew how. Atsumu was always the one who mended them back together, whether it be his fault or Sakusa’s. But now, the other man would sit on the couch, almost drained of energy after work and from trying to keep a decent conversation at the dinner table. 

The chords he plucked were apologetic. A sonorous cry for help. Sakusa’s bandmates looked at each other, afraid to ask their lead singer if he wanted a break from their non-stop 2 hour session. His fingers ached to take a break and his throat dry from singing incoherent babbles that he tried stringing into sentences. By the end of practice, Sakusa hadn’t noticed that the rest of his band had been quiet for 15 minutes. The whole time staring at him scream frustration to anyone who would listen. 

The drive back to the apartment was far more silent than Sakusa tried to convince himself it was. Usually, the car would be filled with unfinished demos or classical music, just so he could musically retune himself. But the noise he made back at the studio left him with a low ringing in his ears and it made the roof of his mouth itchy. 

The ringing got louder when he opened the door. 

Two cups of tea sat cold on the kitchen counter. Volleyball magazines cluttered the dining table and the silhouette of him laid curled up on the sofa. Soft snores drowned out the ringing, the smell of sandalwood wafting the apartment. Silently, Sakusa entered and walked up to the sleeping blonde. Outside, the sun had started to set, kissing the horizon with affectionate displays of pinks and oranges. Warm hues swimming on the apartment floor. 

It was times like those that made Sakusa feel safe. Like nothing could ever hurt him. Not with Atsumu by his side. Never. 

With great hesitance, Sakusa gently pushed the little hairs that covered Atsumu’s face. His touch barely even gracing his pale skin. He continued to ghost over the shape of him. 

He continued throughout the night, pretending he didn’t see the tears that ran down Atsumu’s cheeks. 

_‘With your hand between your thighs…’_

Sakusa wasn’t one to dream much. Or maybe he did, but he doesn’t ever really recall most of them. Either way, he wasn’t prepared for a particular dream. 

Colours blotted across his vision and it kind of reminded him of a watercolour painting.

_Or him._

A chestnut brown dipped in water, the inky substance almost moving in slow motion. The browns told him it loved him. Told him it never wanted to leave his side. Told him wonderful, beautiful things that made his lyrics look like child’s play. It ate up the water, breaking the glass and spilling over. The browns told him it was never good enough. Told him it was tired of putting on a smile. Told him awful, disgusting things that made him throw up. 

_Or him._

A golden drop painted over a white canvas. The browns before making it murky but the gold wouldn’t let that overpower its glow. Stripes of gold-brown twisted all over his body. Going over his eyes and down his tongue, splattering all over his stomach. His lungs gave out as he collapsed, his breath a dusty gold cloud. The whole canvas was now pained over. Layers over layers of it.

_Or him._

An almost clear liquid washes over him. Warm and tingly. When air filled his lungs again, his eyes are brought to a mixture of light beige, a little red and blues. Maybe even dashes of green. Someone’s back turned towards his face. Sweat dripped from the muscles that were etched in the moving painting. The curves and forms almost too familiar that he could put a name to it. He couldn’t though. So he tried to reach out and feel what it felt like. When the pads of his fingers touched the painting. He felt nothing. It was the oddest sensation to ever course through his fingertips. It was lighter than numbness, but heavier than fanning his hands through air. He tried touching it again but felt the nothingness once more. Panicked, he started to press his hands on it, still nothing. What was this? Why couldn’t he feel anything? Why couldn’t he feel

_Him._

_‘…and a smile.’_

He had come to the very last verse of the song. The last few words dancing on his tongue as he continued to stare at hazel browns. Sakusa had stopped playing his guitar, allowing his hands to grip the mic as he sang as hard as his heart could take. The smoke in the air licked the regret off of his skin. 

His eyes followed the blonde as he stepped into the crowd. 

He’s coming back. 

Fuelled by false realities, Sakusa belted his last few notes, throwing his head back. He dropped the mic stand. His body frozen in the moment. His ears filled with the sounds of screams and cheers. He gasped for air, his chest rising and falling dramatically. 

When he finally lowered his head, he instinctively lowered it to the front of the stage. 

_But I thought…_

Gradually lifting up his chin, he saw them once more. Brilliant hazel browns staring right back him, his lips pressed against a short figure with wild orange hair. The other man has his hands tangled in blonde locks and pressed up so close you couldn’t see the anger that radiated from his fucking body. He licks the bottom of the shorter man’s lips and rolled his eyes to the back of his head, a smile plastered across his fucking face.

Sakusa stood onstage, fans practically tearing up his eardrums and worshipping at his feet. Sakusa stood there, tears dripping onto his guitar. Sakusa stood there, longing to wrap his arms around Atsumu like he never did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading! If you like it, please leave a kudos and check out my other works as well <3
> 
> Also follow me on twitter for more: @mistabitch


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